A Fangirl's Life For Me
by Lady LeBeau
Summary: Yo ho, yo ho, a fangirl’s life for me....A tale of a Music With Rocks In fangirl. Oh, dear. Will Buddy survive?


Title: A Fangirl's Life For Me  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: All belongs to PTerry, except Mara, who is In No Way Whatsoever Based Upon the Authoress, No Matter What Anybody Says. Get it?  
  
Summary: Yo ho, yo ho, a fangirl's life for me....A tale of a Music With Rocks In fangirl. Oh, dear. Will Buddy survive?  
  
Chapter 1 Summary: Mara hears the music....  
  
Author's Note: I've wanted to do this for a long time....Bwahahahaha!!! Also, this is my first Discworld fic.  
  
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Mara stared moodily at the rough grain of the table. She was currently in the Mended Drum. She had no idea why, and would much rather be somewhere that wasn't filled with the sort of people who usually went to the Drum. Normally, she wouldn't have gone anywhere near it, but as she walked by she had felt a strange compulsion to go inside and watch whatever was going on. As soon as she had sat down, she felt like she couldn't leave until whatever-she-was-here-for had happened.  
  
At least no one here would know her. She was the daughter of an upper middle class businessman, and would get in serious trouble later for this. She ran a hand through her shoulder-length blonde hair and drummed her fingers impatiently.  
  
She looked up as three musicians walked onto the stage. One of them was a dwarf, holding what liked like it had once been a trumpet, another was a troll and was arranging a set of stoned in front of it, and the third was a human holding a battered guitar. Mara's table was close to the back of the room, but she wanted a closer look at this boy. She stood up and walked to a table about five feet from the stage, which had only one person sitting at it.  
  
Gesturing to the table, without looking up, she asked, "Mind if I sit here?"  
  
"Oook," he said. Mara slowly looked up. It was an orangutan. She looked around for another table to sit at, but they were all full of people she would really rather not meet, and this was the only table where she wouldn't be harassed. She sat down and looked up at the boy. He was tall, with dark curly hair, and bright blue eyes. Cute, too. He looked very nervous, and not without reason, because the patrons of the Drum were notorious in their treatment of musicians. He looked very....elvish*.  
  
The dwarf was holding a string bag. The elvish boy slung the guitar strap over his shoulder. From her table close to the stage, Mara could hear them talking.  
  
"We ready?" the troll asked as he picked up his hammers. The other two nodded.  
  
"Let's give 'em 'A Wizard's Staff' then. That always breaks the ice," said the dwarf.  
  
[* Bet you didn't see THAT one coming....]  
  
"Okay," the troll replied. He began counting on his fingers. "One, two....one, two, many, lots."  
  
Several seconds later, the crowd started throwing things. Mara could understand it....the band was bad. Very bad. Was this it? Was this the reason she had felt compelled to come in? She had expected something more interesting....maybe she could leave now? No....whatever it was she had come to see hadn't happened yet.  
  
She had to lay her head down flat on the table after a few seconds, because all the fruits, peanuts, and occasional arrows shooting towards the stage were making her worried. This was BORING. She wished that whatever it was that was supposed to happen would hurry up.  
  
It did. The boy stood up straight and played a chord. No ordinary chord, this one resonated with strange harmonics that didn't seem possible. It echoed around the room and into Mara's brain. She suddenly knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life: to follow this boy, wherever he went. She felt a red-hot, wild energy fill her body. "Now THIS is more like it," she muttered, a grin on her face.  
  
The troll began to play the stones, loud enough that the crowd felt the rhythm coming up through their feet. The dwarf blew a loud, low note. The boy's fingers danced on the strings, making the guitar scream. He took a stance, moving in a strange way that Mara had never seen before, but enjoyed immensely. She had no idea why she did it, but raised her hand, clenched in a fist except for her pinky and pointer finger, and rocked back and forth, swinging her hair to the beat.  
  
The song was over surprisingly quickly, and the crowd screamed. The band left the stage, and Mara got up. She had to get home. She had....things she had to do.  
  
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Well? How bad is it? 


End file.
